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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013711">I Once Believed Love Would Be Burning Red (But It’s Golden)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest'>seekrest</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>All’s Well That Ends Well (to End Up With You) [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(if you squint), (is it still a college au if they’re adults now?), Complicated Relationships, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Post-Graduation, back on my bs, breakups and makeups, its just me and my whims now</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:14:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,426</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ll be there,” Michelle replied, Ned’s excitement contagious even if now, she wondered if that excitement was misguided.</p><p>None of them had ever anticipated this, to be so far flung out from each other - much less why. </p><p>But then, Michelle thinks as she picks up her suitcase, nothing in life ever went according to plan.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michelle Jones/Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>All’s Well That Ends Well (to End Up With You) [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1493087</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Once Believed Love Would Be Burning Red (But It’s Golden)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideysmjs/gifts">spideysmjs</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Surprise. </p><p>Bet you thought you’d seen the last of me.</p><p>;)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>
  <span>3:38am, Saturday</span>
</h1><p>
  <span>Michelle blinks a few times - trying to ward off the yawn building in the back of her throat - as she quietly locks the door to her apartment, rolling her suitcase down the hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> she should’ve picked a later flight or at the very least - should’ve left the night before. She wouldn’t be in this position, half-dead on her feet and exhausted from a busy work week, if she’d actually planned this out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle was a planner - to her benefit and her detriment, the thought rummaging around in the back of her half-asleep brain that it only was fitting that she would be impulsive for this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she had planned ahead, made a decision a few months ago and not a few hours - she could’ve anticipated this. Her roommate would’ve been more than willing to drive her to the airport, not the exorbitant Uber ride she’s about to take. She would’ve packed her suitcase with care and forethought, not the mad dash on autopilot as she reasoned in equal measure whether she was making a big mistake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The biggest fault against her was the early hour; Michelle with a brain cell would’ve picked a good flight time. But the difference between flying out on Friday versus a few hours later, before the birds were even awake, had been nearly two hundred dollars - something Michelle wasn’t sure how the hell was possible but wasn’t going to argue with, not when it was her own fault for buying a ticket so late to begin with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t as if this was a surprise. She’d been sent the invitation </span>
  <em>
    <span>months</span>
  </em>
  <span> ago, had meant to decline over and over again as the RSVP deadline came and when it finally passed - felt a stab of guilt at her own cowardice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then she’d started scrolling through pictures on his feed, tagged in a throwback photo that made her stomach do flip flops and in one of the most impulsive decisions she’s ever made in her life she messaged him, calling to apologize even if it was well beyond any reasonable time to give one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned - being </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ned</span>
  </em>
  <span> - hadn’t cared in the slightest, just as excited and as easy going as he had been four years ago, when they had been roommates. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s gonna be so great, MJ. I wish you could come.” Ned had said over the phone, Michelle forcing a smile even if he couldn’t see it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like Marlena’s a lucky girl,” she says, deftly avoiding the topic and feeling just as much of a coward for not doing the decent thing and declining the invite. Her parents raised her better than this. Maybe that was partly why she’d called him in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m the lucky one,” Ned said in a predictably cheesy way, Michelle smirking as he continued, “You’d love her MJ.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> love her, then that’s all that matters.” Michelle replies, the other line going silent for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle had sensed the words Ned wasn’t going to bring himself to say - knowing by now that their delicate friendship was held fast by the clear avoidance of something between them, or rather </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>“Are you sure you can’t come?” He asked, Michelle remembering how she’d closed her eyes - trying to steel herself and give an explanation for the full range of emotions she was feeling and finding that she can’t. </p><p>
  <span>“He’s my best man,” Ned says almost apologetically, the rational part of Michelle thinking she should ask who </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> is even if they both know there’s no clarification needed. There were no “sides” after the breakup - Betty and Ned had both made that clear - yet Michelle had moved across the country.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She never really had that much luck getting close to people anyway. Much less holding on to them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay—“ Michelle had said, only for Ned to interrupt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I don’t want to make it weird—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ned—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I still wish you would come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle remenbered biting her lip, trying to summon the courage to gently but firmly let Ned down. It wouldn’t - it </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> - be a big enough of a reason </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go to Ned’s wedding, even if there were plenty of others that came to mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was halfway across the country, a trip that Michelle could arguably afford since she’d just paid off her credit card - though the idea of spending it all on a 3-day party wouldn’t be one of her smartest decisions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there was another part of her, small and slightly nostalgic that wanted to be there to celebrate Ned - considering that the better half of the last three years she’d essentially cut off all contact with the three people she’d become the closest with during her final year of college. </span>
</p><p>Betty had moved back home to the Midwest, gotten married and now ran a very successful blog from all the things she saw on social media. They kept in touch but it wasn’t as frequent, not nearly as much as Ned who - despite everything - had made every effort to be her friend. </p><p>
  <span>The more cynical part of Michelle had always wondered if it was for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but even she knew better than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned was a good person and a good friend— attending his wedding wouldn’t exactly make or break their friendship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Michelle felt nostalgic. Felt guilty. Felt an unexplainable and fierce curiosity - rolling her suitcase down the hall as she thinks of the decision that led her to flying across the country. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words had been out of her mouth before she could stop them, a self-award of her recognizing that had she really not wanted to go - she would’ve said as much months ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be there,” Michelle had replied, Ned’s excitement contagious even if now - walking down the stairs of her apartment and towards her waiting Uber - she wondered if maybe that excitement was misguided.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of them had ever anticipated this, to be so far flung out from each other - much less </span>
  <em>
    <span>why. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, Michelle thinks as she picks up her suitcase, nothing in life ever goes according to plan. <br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p>
<h1>
  <span>5:27am, Saturday</span>
</h1><p>
  <span>“We’ll now begin boarding for Flight 1987-21 to JFK,” the flight attendant rings out, Michelle grabbing her suitcase and balancing her coffee cup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes only a few steps towards the line, being so careful to avoid tripping over someone else’s suitcase when she completely misses who is in front of her - nearly body slamming into them only for strong arms to brace her as she looks up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whoever he is, he’s entirely too well-dressed for an early morning Saturday flight - khaki slacks and a nicely tailored navy blazer, a white button-down tucked into his pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What throws Michelle off more isn’t that she looks like a mess in comparison, reminiscent of her early high school days in faded leggings with a hole in them and a MIT hoodie that’s seen better days is his megawatt smile, kind brown eyes staring into hers as he says, “You alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle blinks, immediately standing up straight and grimacing at the spilled coffee on her hand, the guy immediately looking to it and offering her an actual napkin from his suit jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well-dressed. Polite. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cute</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you,” he says kindly, Michelle gratefully taking the napkin from him as she says, “No it’s my bad, it’s too early for this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs, Michelle wiping up the mess and balling up the napkin in her free hand before gripping her suitcase once again as he says, “Early for…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Life,” Michelle deadpans, only for the now that she’s more aware - very cute stranger to grin when she continues, “Coffee spills. Flying. Take your pick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I choose all of the above?” He asks cheekily, his teeth so white and perfect that it would be almost blinding if it wasn’t so dazzling. A part of her immediately has an alarm bells go off, vestiges and whispers of Harry echoing in the background, but she shoves them away - forcing a smile on her face as she says, “Right answer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle gives him a grim smile before slightly moving out of the way to go towards her place in line, only for the guy to follow behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowns, alarm bells immediately raising again as she eyes him up and down before he puts a hand up, nodding towards the plane, “You heading to JFK?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Michelle asks, eyeing him warily, “You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, got a cousin getting married over there. Well, really off in some fancy beach house. You know how families are,” he says with a smile, gently rolling his eyes and taking her question as a sign to follow after her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle wasn’t keen on talking to strangers, especially in a relatively crowded airport at the ass-crack of dawn - but there was something disarming about the well-dressed and admittedly very cute guy in front of her, smiling at her as if she was the center of the universe even if Michelle knows for a fact she looks like anything but. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It helped - in the most superficial way possible - that he had an accent, Australian from what she could guess as he walks beside her towards the line and says, “How about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Michelle asks, playing dumb just to see what he was going to do. He was cute enough to flirt with, terrible thing to think really but it was the truth, watching as he smiles and says, “Where you headed off to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t talk about my travel plans with strangers,” Michelle says flippantly, ignoring the little flip she feels in her stomach as his smile sometimes gets brighter, throwing his hair back in a move that has to be practiced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh that’s my bad. I’m Brad,” he shifts his bag to another arm, extending out his hand, “What’s yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michelle smiles. She hadn’t flirted with a cute guy since the last time she’d gone out with her co-workers - a few weeks ago now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This whole trip had started with an impulsive decision. What was another?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michelle,” she says, watching the way his eyes lit up, “But my friends call me MJ.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“MJ huh?” Brad says with a smirk, Michelle playfully rolling her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said my </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends</span>
  </em>
  <span> call me MJ, didn’t say you were one of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh I think we can change that,” Brad winks, Michelle feeling a flutter in her stomach and the smile on her face becoming more genuine.</span>
</p><p>This trip had been impulsive, sure. But, she thinks, maybe this weekend wasn’t going to be so bad after all. <br/>
<br/>
</p>
<h1>
  <span>9:03am, Saturday</span>
</h1><p>
  <span>Peter groans as he rolls over, only to feel around for the empty space in the bed around him. He lifts his head and opens his eyes - glancing around the room in confusion for a second before remembering where he was, the knocking that woke him starting up again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peter, it’s me. Wake up,” he hears Eugene say, blinking his eyes a few times before sitting up and getting out of bed. He stumbles over to the door just in time for Eugene to start knocking again, Peter rubbing a hand over his face as he opens the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ned says— Wait, whoa. Why aren’t you dressed?” Eugene asks, glancing around Peter’s empty bedroom, “and where’s Sylvia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She had an audition in the city,” Peter explains, letting Eugene into his room before closing the door behind him, “And I just woke up, I thought I wasn’t supposed to be downstairs till nine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah dude, it’s nine </span>
  <em>
    <span>right now</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Eugene says with a smirk, Peter rubbing the sleep out of his eyes to see that Eugene is fully dressed and ready. “Shit man, how much did you drink last night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too much,” Peter says with a wince, “Ned’s brothers really know how to have a good time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eugene laughs as Peter starts to scramble, throwing on a shirt as Eugene says, “Yeah, they scared the shit out of me in high school. But then again,” Eugene shrugs, “I also was a little shit who went by </span>
  <em>
    <span>Flash</span>
  </em>
  <span> then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter smirked as he straightened out his shirt, looking around for a suitable pair of jeans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today was only the rehearsal, but from all Ned had told him - it was still going to be a busy day filled with tons of pictures, the kind that he knew Ned and Marlena would want to have plastered all over their place with just as much importance as their actual wedding. It was nice, Peter thought to have so many people in your family and so many traditions. If he was honest, it was a little intimidating - terrified of making some wrong joke or missing something important, even if he kept his thoughts to himself considering all Ned should be focusing on was marrying Marlena. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was glad then for Eugene - one of Ned’s old high school friends - that took him under his wing, immediately coming up to him when they all arrived and taking pity on him in a way that would normally bother Peter but he couldn’t help but be grateful for. He’s especially grateful now, considering oversleeping would make him a terrible best man as he says, “Thanks for coming to check on me, man. Should’ve taken your advice last night and tapped out early.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well Ned told me to watch out for you so,” Eugene shrugs, “what the groom wants, the groom gets.” He snickers for a moment before saying, “Then again, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one who is supposed to be a doctor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Peter says putting on the jeans he found, “until graduation I’m still technically—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Potato, potahto,” Eugene says as he waves his hand around, “You graduate in what, five weeks? That’s Doctor enough for me. I’d trust you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t,” Peter says as he laughs, “Could probably kill you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Food for thought,” Flash says as he claps his hands together, “maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell future patients that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls his eyes as Peter shakes his head, turning away from Eugene and heading towards the bathroom to grab some deodorant. </span>
</p><p>“I’ll keep that in mind,” Peter says, hearing Eugene’s laughter as he tries - and fails - to wrangle with his hair.</p><p>
  <span>He gives up and walks out of the adjoined bathroom as Eugene says, “Yeah well I was a business major. We look for the quickest path to point A to point B. Which,” he rubs his hands together, “speaking of, we good? Ready to go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter smirks again, shaking his head. “Yeah. Let’s go.” </span>
</p>
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